


Darkness

by posingasme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcoholic Dean, Angel Castiel, Cutting, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guilty Dean, Not Slash, Self-Harm, Spoilers through S10 Finale, Suicidal Dean Winchester, Suicide Attempt, coda s10 finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 11:22:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4261485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the Darkness rolls out over the world, Dean falls to his lowest point, and Castiel must convince him it is worth going on in spite of the guilt. </p><p>Always keep fighting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr Prompt Fill

It took a day for Castiel to return to his senses after Rowena's spell. He knew Crowley had survived by the skin of his stolen teeth. But Crowley always survived. That's what Crowley was. A survivor. One day, Castiel feared, when the last of the world and every realm crumbled, Crowley would be standing somewhere safe watching it with _Good riddance_ on his breath.

But as much as he despised Crowley, and might have liked to end him as was Rowena's intention, his first priority upon coming to his senses was his friends. Sam had left a voicemail telling him something about _The Darkness_ coming and Death dying, which surely was some sort of metaphor for some terrible thing which was about to come straight for them, as it always did. He also mentioned that the Mark was removed, so there was that.

Castiel was glad. Flying Dean into the sun as per his mandate was just not something Castiel was prepared to do to a man who had become his dear brother-in-arms. That was not to mention that his only other human friend, Sam himself, would probably have killed him immediately after having done the sun thing anyway. Sam did not take kindly to creatures snuffing his brother, and he went a little mad when that happened. Very mad, in fact. He had triggered the Apocalypse in his madness once.

Not that they hadn't each done that at some point.

So whatever this _Darkness_ and Death issue was, they would deal with it as they always did. For now, he would celebrate the victory. Things seemed to come in threes for the Winchesters, and never in a good way. One good thing nearly always lead to two epically bad things. Removal of the Mark was what Castiel intended to focus on for today.

But when he finally located Sam, he was alone, cleaning the horrible mess in the bunker. "Sam, are you all right?"

The man startled wearily, then sighed. He wiped ash and dust from his hands onto his jeans and stood. "Hey, Cas. Yeah, for now. Who knows what's about to hit the fan? But right now, I want to try to..." He gestured to the mess. "Pick up the pieces," he sighed through a hitch of emotion in his throat. "Figure out what's left before we focus on what's coming."

Castiel nodded. He waved his hands over the piles, and they became clean. He wished he could do more, but he suspected Sam needed this task anyway.

"Thank you," the man croaked.

He nodded again. "And Dean?"

Sam's eyes were rimmed in red, but he cleared his throat. "He, uh, wanted to go to where we burned Charlie. Said he'd like to say goodbye now that the Mark isn't twisting his words."

"I see. I have yet to pay my own respects. She was, after all, my best friend."

Sam looked up at last, and a smile came over his face. He laughed quietly. "Yeah?"

The angel was unsure about the amusement in Sam's eyes. "She said so," he explained.

"Ah. Okay, well, you should join Dean then. He probably shouldn't really be alone right now anyway, no matter what he says."

"And you are all right?"

He shrugged helplessly. "Well, I got your texts about what happened. Charlie is dead. We got Rowena with the Book of the Damned, Metatron with the Demon Tablet, you're locked out of Heaven, the bunker is compromised, the Impala is screwed up, Crowley is pissed off and more potent than ever, Death is dead, _The Darkness_ is coming, and Dean isn't talking. So...yeah. I'll be fine. Add in a Leviathan or a Jefferson Starship for good measure, maybe a vengeful spirit of an old friend of mine, and some hallucinations of an archangel, and it'll be just like old times."

Since Castiel was not entirely sure what to say to this, he said nothing. He watched Sam gaze out at the remains of his safe haven, his home and sanctuary.

"Take care of Dean, will you?" The hunter's hands were trembling very slightly as he raised them to claw through his hair. "Please. He's in a real bad place right now, and...he won't listen to me."

"I promise I'll take care of him, Sam. I'll check on him right now."

"Thank you. I can deal with everything else, Cas. Everything. But I can't do this without my brother."

Castiel put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "I know, Sam. I promise. Please care for yourself in the meantime."

Sam nodded absently.

With a last look at the numb grief in Sam's face, Castiel flew until he reached the site where Charlie had been given her hunter's funeral. He could feel Dean nearby, and moved toward him.

Dean was sitting on the hood of the Impala, just off the road, drinking whiskey as if it had no burn. He did not even have the energy to be startled by his guest.

Instead, he snorted. "Castiel," he grumbled. "Angel of the Lord. Raised me from Hell, threatened to throw me back in. Remember that?"

Castiel blinked twice, then nodded. "Ah. That was long ago, Dean."

"You realize how many folks would be alive right now if you'd followed through on that? Or maybe that time when you were God, when you told me to bow or perish or something. I don't know. I was distracted by not dying at the time. You could have finished me off then."

Castiel stood next to the car. Dean still was not facing him. "Dean, there are very few moments in our past when I could not have finished you off if I had chosen to do so. But I'm glad I never did."

"You came close a few times."

"I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean laughed bitterly and threw back the bottle again. "Not telling you to be sorry," he said. "Telling you I'm wishing you had done it. Finished me. So many people have suffered because of me. So many I could never count. So many I don't even know about them all."

"Dean, you have saved far more than you have failed."

"Yeah? Because I think your math is wrong."

Castiel frowned at him. "Dean? Are you hurt?"

"What? No."

"Why do you smell like blood?"

He snorted again. "Don't I always smell like blood?"

"Often. But I can heal you if you're injured."

When at last Dean lifted his head to look at Castiel, there were tears sparkling in his green eyes. He let them escape his long lashes and fly unchecked down his cheeks. "Yeah? Why would you? Cas, I just beat the shit out of you two days ago. Three? I don't even know what day it is. Less than a week, I almost put your blade through your chest. Why would you want to heal me?"

"You are my friend, Dean. I cannot understand why you are speaking as though you did anything I have never done to you. We are friends, Dean. And I'm worried about you. Do I need to heal you without your..." The deep voice trailed off as he saw Dean's arms when he pushed up his sleeves. "What are you doing?"

"Experimenting," Dean said casually. "Trying to figure out if there's enough space to write the name of every person I've failed over my lifetime. Look. Want to see where you and Sam are?"

Castiel gaped in horror at the carvings in Dean's skin. As he watched, Dean removed his top layer and pulled his black tee up too.

"Right here." Dean pointed at the still-bleeding marks over his heart. In morbid letters, the words _Sam_  and _Cas_ were carved into his flesh. "And the other side." He tore the shirt over his head to display _Mary_ and _John_ and _Bobby_ on his right breast. Below that, his stomach read _Charlie_ and _Benny_ and _Kevin_.

"Dean, why would you do this?"

The whiskey bottle shook as it was raised again. "Because when I die, I want Sam to get why."

Castiel's gaze brushed over Dean's other marks. _Jo. Ellen. Henry. Gwen. Adam. Garth. Lisa. Ben. Sonny. Emma_. Nearly two dozen sets of initials were scattered over the man's arms and torso. _VH, R, R, A, r, K, a, MM, FD, AM, A, PB, BT, EN, JN, LR, CS, NF, RR_. All were carved out with surprising legibility even as blood trickled from every cut.

"So unless you came to say goodbye, you should leave."

The angel flinched. "Dean, I'm not here to say goodbye. Not to you."

"Then go."

"No."

Dean nodded. "Okay. I get it. But I really would like to skip the part where you tell me not to do this and I argue. I really...I'm just too tired, Cas. I'm not going to lie to you like I had to lie to Sam. He would never understand. But you. You know what this feels like, man. You told me once you were afraid to go back home to the Penthouse because when you saw all the destruction you'd left behind-"

"I feared I might kill myself."

Dean shrugged and let the statement cloud the air between them.

"You're right. I do understand. I understand that you feel guilt over what you've done. I understand that you feel that you've let down your loved ones. But, Dean, I remember another time I felt this way, and I wondered aloud why I was still alive. You told me it was so I could put things right."

There came a bitter snarl from Dean then. He pointed at a scrawling in his arm. "This? NF. Nancy Fitzgerald. Tortured and killed by Lilith because she couldn't do it to me instead. Can't put that right. Here. AM. Anne Marie. Waitress that never hurt anybody. I don't even want to tell you what I said to her last I saw her, but suffice it to say I was wearing my black eyes at the time. Can't put that right. R. Rudy. Dumb hunter but good man. I didn't even try talking down the son of a bitch that had a weapon on him. Can't put that right. Sonny. Ex-con who thought I had the potential to be better than I am. I couldn't ever look him in the eyes now. My..."

Castiel heard Dean choke on emotion, and watched him lift the bottle to drown it.

"My dad. John Winchester. Part crap dad and obsessed bastard, part goddamn hero. Best damn.." Dean drew in a jagged, desperate breath. "Best damn hunter I ever knew, apart from Sam, and he dedicated his life to putting down things like me."

"Dean, you and your brother have done impossible things. You have saved your world..." Castiel stopped to correct himself. "Our world. You have saved it countless times."

"And how many times did it need saving because I messed it up? Two words, Cas. Two words I'm never going to get out of my head. First seal."

"Enough. You were always meant to break that seal, just as your brother was always meant to break the final one. Everything in the universe conspired to make that happen."

"You know...you know, I think that's crap. Because when it came down to it, I failed that test all on my own. Nobody did that for me. Sam, he was coerced. Lead to believe something turned out not to be true. Sam was trying to save innocent people when he dabbled in seal-breaking. But the only hide I was trying to save was my own. So yeah. Thanks, but I think I'll still put that in the screwed-up column."

Castiel felt a change of tactic was in order. "Fine. Dean, I'd like to access your memories if you don't mind. Perhaps you have done something I'm unaware of which justifies you ending your life."

Dean looked at him suspiciously. "Heal me or take me anywhere, and I will end you instead."

"Just memories," Castiel promised. He reached for Dean's mind and sought what he needed. It was a very dark place, but he found what he was looking for.

"So? Can we stop pretending now?"

"There will be no more pretending, Dean."

The hunter nodded with a crushing flinch. "Glad we agree," he choked.

"I'd like to show you something. Do you recall that when we left Purgatory, we had conflicting memories of what had occurred?"

"So?"

"So let me show you another example of when you misinterpreted a situation."

"Cas..."

The blue eyes cut into him, and the man quieted. He reached toward the man, who flinched from his touch, but allowed it after a hesitation. Castiel let two fingers fall on the name Charlie on Dean's stomach, just below his ribs. A white light glowed and cauterized the wound without pain, and then Dean's eyes went glassy as memory filled his senses.

Castiel watched the memory unfold the way it was meant to, without Dean's mind's insistence that he was always at fault.

He could see Dean grabbing the phone from Sam. "Charlie? Charlie, whatever they want, just give it to them!" The gruff voice became desperate. "Charlie! We're coming for you! Whatever they want, just give it to them! Charlie!"

A breathless voice came over the line. "I can't do that, Dean."

Castiel spoke very quietly. "She was strong, Dean. Smart. And she knew. This is not a helpless victim. Listen again."

"I can't do that, Dean."

Dean's tears flowed down his face relentlessly. "Yes you can, Charlie," he choked out. "Yes. You could have. They wouldn't have killed you before I could get to you if you had cooperated. If you had just given it to them...I'd still have the Mark, but you'd be alive."

"I can't do that, Dean."

"But you could have," he whispered to the memory.

Castiel nodded. "It's in her voice, Dean. This is not a woman who didn't know the consequences. This is a woman who had once, according to your own memories, been ripped into two halves, who had experienced what it was like to be out of control and to give in to darkness. And she promised you she would not allow that to happen to you, not again. This woman is not your victim, Dean."

The hunter took in a strangled breath. "She's my hero."

"Exactly. Charlie was not anyone's victim. She was a warrior who lost her battle in order to win the war. You and I both know that sometimes that is the only option a warrior has. Sam may have told her the war he was waging and asked for help. You may have introduced her to hunting in the first place. But that woman was a warrior long before you met her, she had many an adventure on her own, and her eyes were wide open when she told you this."

"I can't do that, Dean," the voice said again, and this time they could hear the strength through the fear, the determination pushing beyond hesitation.

"This woman loved you and Sam as brothers, and befriended me immediately. I felt good radiating from her. Strength and brilliance. What happened to her is exactly why you cannot give up, Dean, and not only because it would dishonor her sacrifice."

"I have to stop monsters like the ones that killed Charlie."

Castiel nodded quietly. "The work is never finished, Dean, not for us. And you are the best at what you do."

Dean took another long breath. "Yeah," he sighed. "Yeah."

"But more than that, Dean, you cannot be finished because you are worth so much more than what you can do for others. Live in honor of Charlie, in honor of all of these people you think you've let down over time, if that's what you need to do. But for those of us who love you, we would just have you for everything you are, not just what you can do. I looked in on your memories, Dean. It would grieve a great many people if you were lost. Me and Sam, but also Sheriff Mills, a man called Garth who once was guardian of our prophet, several women, including one called Robin and another called Cassie, and a strong man called Cole, who has developed a deep respect for you. There are others who think of you as the man who saved them, many of them very young people growing into adulthood who remember your courage and strength in times of darkness and indecision. My Claire is surely one, as is a young woman called Kate, and one called Krissy."

Dean flinched at the names, especially the last one. "God, Krissy. You think she-"

"I know she thinks of you, Dean, and I know she finds comfort in knowing you are still fighting. She has also done things she wishes she had not. But she knows Dean Winchester is still out there somewhere fighting for what is good, and making mistakes, and learning from them."

"How do you know?" There was desperation in Dean's eyes now, as if his decision entirely rested upon Castiel's next words.

The angel smiled. "Aside from the fact that I connected to her own mind through your shared memory? Even if I had not, I would know because she looks at you in the same way your brother and I do, and I know that is how we both feel in times of darkness."

It took some time for Dean to catch his breath, but when he did, he pushed himself off the hood of his dear car and stood. He took hold of Castiel's arm to steady himself, both from the disturbing amount of blood loss he was suffering and from the effects of the alcohol. Castiel caught him in strong arms.

"All right then," Dean said in a voice that reminded his angel of the man he knew and loved. "Heal me up. Because you're right that the work is never finished, and _The Darkness_ is coming."

Castiel breathed with relief, and worked his grace for his friend.


End file.
